Game of Thrones: Tale of the Red Wolf
by London Kassidy
Summary: TV Series AU: Torrhen Stark is Robb's twin brother. Living in Robb's shadow, he finds himself thrust into power as King Torrhen II in the wake of the Red Wedding. Beset on all sides by enemies and aided by unlikely friends, can he overcome all obstacles laid before him and become a true King in the North?
1. Introduction

_Disclaimer_: I do NOT own Game of Thrones or its contents. All characters and notions of story belong to George R.R. Martin. This is only an alternate storytelling and in no way is it meant to infringe on copyright.

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Game of Thrones: Tale of the Red Wolf

Winter Is Coming. Our words are not a boast like the Baratheons of Storms End or the Lannisters of Casterly Rock. They are a warning. A warning to all Starks of

Winterfell that darkness looms upon the horizon and that we must be ready for whatever comes out of that darkness. For eight thousands years this warning has been the

words of my fathers and their fathers. From the Age of Heroes when we ruled the North as Kings to the War of Conquest when Torrhen, my namesake, bent the knee to Aegon

Targaryen to the fall of his dynasty three hundred years at the hands of my father, Eddard, who led the North in rebellion against Mad King Aerys alongside Robert Baratheon

of the Stormlands who would then become King. Then and now, the words of our House remain true. We live in constant danger: From those beyond the Wall and those within

the Seven Kingdoms. The only ones a wolf can rely on are those of their pack. But now, my pack faces the greatest challenge that has ever been placed upon them. I am

Torrhen, son of Eddard of House Stark and Second of my Name, and this is my story of how, separated from the pack, I survived and grew stronger for it.

The story begins the day my father killed a deserter...


	2. Execution and Unease

_Disclaimer_: I do NOT own Game of Thrones or its contents. All characters and notions of story belong to George R.R. Martin. This is only an alternate storytelling and in no way is it meant to infringe on copyright.

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The brisk wind that blew across the courtyard of Winterfell was barely noticed by Torrhen as he, along with his brothers Robb, Rickon and his half-brother Jon Snow watched his second youngest brother Brandon practice archery as his mother and father watched from the ramparts above. After Bran's latest shot had embedded itself in a nearby barrel, Torrhen watched Jon put his hands on Bran's shoulders and whisper reassurance in his ear.

"Go on. Father's watching." He paused to look back. "And your mother." Torrhen couldn't help but wince slightly at that last part, but remained focused on his brother's efforts on trying to score a bulls-eye. Just as before Bran notched his arrow, drew back and loosed. Only for the arrow to sail over the target. Despite himself, Torrhen laughed as did the others until Eddard Stark's voice boomed from the ramparts above him.

"And which one of you was a marksman at ten?" Embarrassed, Torrhen admitted his father had a point. He had to work until he was at least thirteen until he could call himself a competent archer."Keep practicing, Bran. Go on." So as Bran notched another arrow and drew the string back to his cheek he and the other spectators remained quiet.

"Don't think too much, Bran." Jon advised.

"Relax your bow arm." Robb contributed.

"Take a deep breath and hold it when you draw. It will steady your aim." Torrhen offered his own wisdom. But suddenly an arrow appeared dead center. But it wasn't Bran's as he was still holding. Turning around he saw his youngest sister Arya holding a bow. As they stood dumbstruck before exploding in laughter Arya offered a rather sarcastic curtsy just before she took off with Bran hot on her heels, encouraged by Robb and Jon. Torrhen looked up with at his parents with a toothy grin.

"I think our sister is Nymeria reborn. Don't you think, Father?!" He was met with his father's warm smile before someone called him from the balcony. He, along with the others, began collecting arrows. As he turned to see Rickon handing Jon some arrows, he watched as his mother's expression darken as she looked upon the child that wasn't hers. As Jon looked up to her, Torrhen saw a look of disgust cross her face. Jon lowered his head and turned away and Torrhen felt the bile rise in his throat. Just because he didn't have the Stark name didn't make him any less a Stark. He forced himself to continue finding arrows until he heard his father call for them.

"Torrhen, Robb, Jon, saddle your horses. You too, Bran" When Torrhen was about to ask why he saw his family's weapon, the Valyrian steel great-sword Ice being handed to his father by Rodrik Cassel, the Master at Arms of Winterfell. He also saw Theon Greyjoy, his father's ward, saddling his horse and he knew what was going on. Father was taking them to an execution.

"Who is it, father? Some outlaw?"

"Some outriders caught a deserter from the Night's Watch this morning."

"Why is Bran coming, father? He's only ten."

"He won't be a boy forever, just like you and Robb. Sooner or later, you will all have to understand the responsibilities of power." Torrhen wanted to argue against it, but one look from his father silenced him. He and Robb had been the same age when they saw their first execution, and they both learned a valuable lesson. Like it or not Bran and even Rickon, when his time came, would learn the same.

(-)

When the party arrived, the outriders had already prepared the area and were holding the deserter by their horses. With a nod from father, they brought him forward and Torrhen could see him clearly. He looked not much older than him and Robb, with blond lanky hair and pale white skin common to all men of the North. He looked thin and haggard, as if he hadn't eaten anything for days and muttering about seeing...something. As he was brought before his father and the execution block, what he said next made Torrhen's breath catch in his throat.

"I know I broke my oath. I know I'm a deserter. I should have gone back to the Wall and warned them but... I saw what I saw... I saw the White Walkers." Torrhen had heard the stories of the White Walkers. Creatures made of ice that came from the Lands of Always Winter and had made war upon the Seven Kingdoms, raising the dead to hunt the living, before being driven back in the War of the Dawn and barred from returning by the Wall. But that was eight thousand years ago. They couldn't still be around, right? Obviously the deserter thought differently. He asked his father if word could be sent to his family that he was a coward and that he was sorry. His father, expression never changing once during his confession, signaled to the outriders holding him. Forcing him to the block, Will resumed his mutterings while his father drew Ice from the wolf pelt sheath held by Theon and began to speak the words of judgement.

"In the name of Robert of the House Baratheon, First of his Name, King of the Andals and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm, I, Eddard of the House Stark, Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North, sentence you to die."

"Don't look away. Father will know if you do." Jon said to Bran. Torrhen wasn't told this the first time he and Robb saw, it was something he knew instinctively. Didn't stop him from vomiting behind a tree in the wolfswood when it was over. Suddenly, Eddard Stark's powerful arms swung Ice and cleaved the man's head from his body with nary a sound. Torrhen looked to Bran, and saw that he had kept his eyes open.

"You did well." Jon said before turning to see to the horses. Torrhen came up to Bran and placed his hand on his shoulder with a comforting squeeze. "It never gets easier, watching a man die. Nor should it. Remember that." He followed Jon to the horses while Robb took Bran by the shoulders and followed behind him. Later, Torrhen watched as father gave Bran the same speech he had given him. Word for word, he thought.

"Robb, what do you think of what the deserter said? About the White Walkers?"

"I don't know. It's been eight thousand years since the last time they were seen in Westeros. But even then, who knows if they really exsisted in the first place?"

"So you think he was lying?"

"I don't know, but you saw how he looked. It could be just the ravings of a madman. Who knows what he saw?" Admitting that Robb had a point but unable to shake the feeling of uneaseiness that had come over him he mounted his horse and, with the rest of the company, rode for Winterfell.


	3. Direwolves and Dark Omens

_Disclaimer_: I do NOT own Game of Thrones or its contents. All characters and notions of story belong to George R.R. Martin. This is only an alternate storytelling and in no way is it meant to infringe on copyright.

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As the company moved through the wolfswood, Robb, Bran and Jon occupied themselves with racing each other while Torrhen stayed behind lost in his thoughts.

"What's troubling you, son?" Eddard's warm, rough voice briefly startled Torrhen. Quickly collecting himself, he gathered his thoughts since their was no point in trying to lie to his father.

"I can't stop thinking about what the deserter said before he died. What if he really did see the White Walkers?"

"Mad men see what they see, Torrhen. The White Walkers haven't been seen in centuries, if they actually existed."

"But if they didn't exist, why did Bran the Builder raise the Wall? What was he trying to keep out?" Eddard looked a bit lost as he pondered this until he looked Torrhen straight in the eye.

"I don't know. In any case, the man had to die for deserting the Watch. Once the oath is made, it cannot be broken."

"Is that where I have to go, since Robb is your heir?" Before Eddard could reply, Robb's voice could be heard further up the road near the bridge over the river. Spurring their horses, they arrived where the other boys and their guards were gathered. Dismounting, they saw what had attracted attention. A full grown stag lying on its side in the middle of the road, entrails ripped from its body and one antler jaggedly broken.

"Seven hells! What kind of animal could do this?" Torrhen exclaimed.

"A mountain lion?" Theon asked.

"No mountain lions this far north." Eddard quietly declared.

Drawing his sword, Torrhen followed a trail of blood towards the river past a large tree with Eddard in front and Robb close behind. As they passed it the brothers eyes widened in shock. As the rest of the party crowded behind them, their eyes fell upon the biggest wolf any of them had ever seen. It was lying on its side, tongue lolling out with a piece of antler lodged in its throat. Six pups were cuddled in the remaining warmth of their late mothers belly.

"Father, that's a Dire wolf." Torrhen said breathlessly, amazed at the sight of an animal that he had only seen in the pages of old books before today. Eddard pulled the antler out of its throat and looked at it in awe.

"Tough old beast." He exclaimed before tossing it aside.

"There are no direwolves south of the Wall." Robb said as Torrhen slowly ran his hand across the fur of the fallen beast.

"At least not for two hundred years." Eddard added almost unconsciously.

"Now there are six." Jon said.

"She must have held on long enough to whelp. Poor creature." Torrhen said as he looked the furry little newborns. Jon picked one up and handed it to Bran, with his eyes lighting up as the cub mewled in his arms.

"They don't belong down here." Ser Rodrik added, to which Eddard nodded in agreement.

"Better a quick death. Without their mother they won't survive." In response, Theon drew his dagger.

"Give him here, Bran." He pulled the pup from Bran's arms, ready to cut its throat. Bran cried out in horror and Torrhen sprang up, ready to strike Theon, but restrained himself in time.

"Put away your blade." Robb said in his best commanding tone.

"I take orders from your father, not you." Theon countered.

"Father, please!" Bran pleaded, having fallen in love with the pup. But Eddard would not be swayed.

"I'm sorry, Bran. But it's for the best." But the saving grace came from Jon.

"My lord, there are six pups here; Four male and two female. You have six children, four sons and two daughters, and the Dire wolf is the sigil of your house. They were meant to have them."

"I agree with Jon, father." But at the same time, he wondered why he said six instead of seven. Then suddenly, a cold feeling crept into his heart. As this feeling grew, he saw his father debating in his head the merit of the pups. Finally, he came to his decision.

"You'll train them yourselves, feed them yourselves and if they die, bury them yourselves." With this, he marched back up to the road while the boys began to pick up the pups. Bran took the one Theon took back and Jon handed two to Robb and two to Theon after his had sheathed his dagger. Torrhen took one that was all black, but his eyes were red as blood. As he looked in his eyes, he felt something pass between them; they were joined by an unknown but unbreakable bond, and one would never abandon the other. No matter what. Suddenly, he was shaken from his trance by Bran asking Jon why he didn't have his own pup. What he said next broke his heart.

"I'm not a Stark."

'Yes you are, Jon. Gods damn you, you are one of us!' Torrhen screamed in his head. Why did his brother think so little of himself? He wanted to give him his pup, but something held him back. Perhaps it was the bond between them. So, with a sigh, he started with the rest of the group back up to the road. But then he and Jon both heard whimpering from a nearby bush. Jon, curiosity peaked, walked over. He knelt and from the bush he drew a wolf pup with fur as white as freshly fallen snow.

"It's an albino. The runt of the litter." Robb commented.

"That one's yours, Snow." Theon added, with a smug grin.

"Now don't be so jealous, Greyjoy. I'm sure if we looked in the river hard enough, we could find you a little squid to play with."

That shut up Theon quickly, and he walked off before he made a further fool of himself. Robb grinned before following him.

"A pup of your own. You know what this means, Jon?" Jon looked at him quizzically and Torrhen grinned.

"It means you _are_ a Stark."

(-)

As Torrhen practiced his swordplay on a well-used training dummy in the courtyard while his direwolf pup, which he had named Rhaegar after the Targaryen prince and his personal hero, watched him he let his mind wander to the events of the last few days. He thought of the stag and the direwolf, the pups, and his siblings reactions to them. Arya, Sansa and Rickon had fallen love with them at first sight, Arya naming hers Nymeria, Sansa naming hers Lady, while Rickon named his, rather oddly, Shaggydog. Bran hadn't named his yet, for some reason. Mother, of course, had been understandably unsettled by them. She had heard tales of direwolves, full grown, being as big as horses. For some reason, Torrhen liked the idea of having a pet as big as he was. Taking a few more practiced swings, he decided it was time for a rest. Taking a seat beside Rhaegar he scratched behind his ears while he drank deeply from his waterskin. Rhaegar made mewling noises and licked at Torrhen's hand, which made his smile widen. Suddenly, he saw his mother emerge from Maester Luwin's tower with a scroll held tightly in her hands. The look in her eyes made Torrhen uneasy, as it brought his thoughts back to the stag and Rhaegar's mother. Impulsively, he stood and made his way toward his mother with Rhaegar close behind.

"Mother, do you have a moment?"

"Of course. I was just delivering a message to your father." As she said this Torrhen noticed the broken seal on the scroll.

A single hand, emerging from a crown, facing palm out with the crescent moon and falcon of House Arryn inside the palm. The sigil of the Hand of the King, Jon Arryn. "What is on your mind?"

"I've been thinking about what I saw on the day we found Rhaegar and his siblings. Something about it is...troubling me." Catelyn looked him in the eye.

"What about it?"

"Well, the direwolf is the sigil of House Stark and the stag is the sigil of House Baratheon. The direwolf traveled south of the Wall and it and the stag fought each other. The stag died alone while the direwolf died leaving its pups to fend for themselves. The whole situation seemed too...convenient. I can't help thinking that..." He trailed off, unable to find the right words to explain it.

'What do you think?" Suddenly, it came to him.

"What if it's a sign of things to come?" While silent, her face showed agreement.

"I don't know. Your father doesn't believe in signs, but I can't help but also feel that...there is a great change coming." At this, she and Torrhen both looked at the scroll in her hands. "I should go. Not wise to keep your father waiting." After brushing his cheek she turned toward the godswood leaving Torrhen to pick up Rhaegar in his arms and hold him tightly, silently praying that all would be well yet knowing deep down that nothing would ever be the same.


	4. Anxiety and New Arrivals

Over the next several days the news spread like wildfire: Jon Arryn was dead. The Hand of King who ruled the Seven Kingdoms of Westeros for seventeen years while King Robert had drank and wenched his days away had passed away during the night. And now the King and his entourage was coming north to Winterfell. That could only mean one thing.

"He's going to name our father Hand of the King. Why else would he come?"

"He could be coming for anything! Maybe he just wants to see Father." Robb said and Torrhen had to restrain himself from cuffing his brother upside the head, instead returning to feeding the ravens. He may be the heir to Winterfell, but by the gods he could be so stupid!

"Robb, don't you think it's too convenient that days after Lord Jon dies, nearly the entire court packs up and leaves King's Landing to come here?! This isn't just a social visit between old friends. Our father will be named Hand, I'm sure of it." He looked out the window to the south with a grimace, wishing he could somehow...make the King not come.

"Alright. If he's named Hand, what then?"

"Nothing good. Our father belongs here, not in that cesspool of a city."

"You're calling the greatest city in Westeros a cesspool?" Robb looked shocked at Torrhen's insult of the capital.

From what I've heard of it from merchants coming north, yes. I heard it smells of shit and corpses everyday, not to mention that in the court of Robert Baratheon, loyalties change as rapidly as fashions. Do you think our father, a man who sees the world in black and white, would last two days there?" Robb couldn't think of a response. "Precisely. We Starks don't belong down there, not in that snake pit." A cold wind blew through the window, causing all the ravens to squawk as if the gods were agreeing with him.

"Alright, brother. You may have a point. But more importantly, what's gotten into you? These last few days you've been so distant. Arya, Bran, and even Jon are asking and I don't have an answer." Throwing the last raven his dinner before setting down the basket, Torrhen sighed and turned to face Robb.

"Neither do I, Robb. But I've had this feeling ever since the day we found the wolves. It's like...a block of ice in the pit of my stomach. Something bad is coming and I don't know what it is or when or why. I just know that once it comes, nothing will ever be the same." He would have said more, but Maester Luwin's rapping on the door immediately changed the subject.

"Ah, there you are. Your mother's looking for you. She says it's time for supper. Speaking of which, I'm grateful that you've given my ravens theirs."

"Anything we can do to help, Maester." Torrhen said, depsite the fact that he had been doing all the feeding while Robb had been doing most of the talking. "By the way, are there any updates on the King's progress?"

"Proceeding steadily north and arriving tomorrow."

"Well, I guess we'll be off then." With a short bow to Luwin, he and Robb set off to the Great Keep. As they crossed the courtyard, Torrhen slowed his pace to look at everything. Mikken laboring at his forge, Hodor shoveling straw, Farlen tending to the hounds while his daughter Palla brought him supper, and Jory Cassel and his cousin Beth talking and laughing. He looked long and hard, committing it all to memory before his resume his walk to supper.

(-)

It had finally come, the long awaited day. The King was coming to Winterfell, and chaos reigned. Even now, Lady Catelyn was still ordering servants around trying to make everything perfect for their guests. While this was happening, Robb, Torrhen, Jon and Theon were getting shaved.

"Why is your mother so dead-set on us getting pretty for the King?" Torrhen smirked: Jon hated getting groomed.

"It's for the Queen, I bet. I hear she's a sleek bit of meat." Theon said.

"I heard the Prince is a right royal prick." Robb said as Tommy rubbed his cheeks, checking to see if any whiskers missed his blade.

"Think of all the southern girls he gets to stab with his right royal prick."

"Honestly Theon, is there a single thought in your head that doesn't involve fucking?!" Both Robb and Jon laughed and Theon's cheeks reddened while Torrhen continued. "As long as the good prince Joffrey doesn't try stabbing any northern girls, one in particular, I'm sure he'll leave the North will all his teeth in his head." The others nodded as Tommy slapped Robb's face to let him know that his work was done and Jon's turn was next.

"Shear him good, Tommy. There isn't a girl Jon likes more than his own hair." The boys laughed while Jon groaned.

"I'm going to miss this."

"What? Getting groomed?" Robb asked, sarcastically.

"No, this." Torrhen declared. "The four of us talking, laughing. Before we know it, years will pass and we will all be...somewhere else. With families and responsibilities of our own. But these are the moments when you wish time would stop and you could live in those moments forever." He paused while the others thought about his words. "I suppose our father had moments like this as well. When he and the King were wards of House Arryn. Before Grandfather and Uncle Brandon were murdered and the Rebellion brought the Targaryen's to ruin."

"I suppose they did." Robb said.

"Well let's hope that nothing that eventful happens to the four of us." Theon chimed in.

"Yes, let's hope so." Torrhen agreed but as he watched Jon's hair fall away in clumps, he had to accept that particular hope was one that would be dashed and quite violently, too.

(-)

As much as he hated to, he had to leave Rhaegar in his room. Lucky for him, he had a whole chicken to keep him busy. Yes it would be one less chicken at the feast tonight but, according to the rumors, he doubted King Robert would even notice. But that didn't change the desire to have him close, if only to help him relax as he, the family and the entire population of Winterfell stood waiting in the courtyard for the King's company to arrive. Luckily, Mother broke the tension looking up and down the line.

"Where's Arya? Sansa, where's your sister?" As Sansa shrugged, Torrhen had to bite back a grin. He had seen his youngest sister ducking out the main gate earlier to watch the procession wearing a guardsman's helmet for reasons of whimsy and...neglected to inform his mother. Suddenly, she came bounding in out of breath. Father took her helmet and told her to join the line while Torrhen, Jon and Robb all grinned their youngest sister's antics. As she made her way to her place Torrhen patted her hair and she slapped his leg before shoving Bran aside. Father handed the helmet to Ser Rodrik and order was restored just as the first members of the royal party entered the main gate. First came a member of the Kingsguard, followed by Prince Joffrey Baratheon and a huge man in armor who helmet was shaped like an angry dog with fangs bared. As he raised his visor, Torrhen recognized the man: Sandor Clegane, the Hound. Both he and Robb saw Sansa lock eyes with the Prince, and he felt an unexplainable, but instant revulsion for him. Then, a huge wheelhouse came through the gate pulled by a team of magnificent black horses and following it, escorted by two Kingsguards, was the King. The entire courtyard went to one knee and bowed their heads, which was good for Torrhen so no one would see his eyes widen. This was Robert Baratheon, the man who could use with one hand a warhammer that even his father could barely lift? The man who raised a rebellion and killed Rhaegar Taragryen at the Trident? Who led six of the Seven Kingdoms against the Iron Islands and won? He looked like the horse underneath him could barely hold his weight. He had to bite his tongue to keep from laughing as two servants held his horse while a third brought a stepping block and then watching him dismount. Yet when his feet touched ground, he carried himself well as he strode toward father. Even with all the extra fat, he was still a warrior. Standing before them, he silently gestured for father to rise. As he did so, the entire courtyard followed him.

"Your Grace." His strong quiet voice could barely mask his intimidation in the presence of his friend and King. For what seemed like an eternity the two men stared at each other while Torrhen looked on. Suddenly, the silence was broken by the one phrase Torrhen didn't see coming from the King.

"You've got fat." He was biting his tongue so hard to keep from laughing as his father's eyes gestured as if to say "look who's talking". Suddenly the two men laughed and embraced each other warmly while Torrhen had released a breath he hadn't known he was holding. He saw Robert embrace his mother and give Rickon's groomed hair a good rub, before returning to his father.

"Nine years. Why haven't I seen you? Where the hell have you been?"

"Guarding the North, your Grace. Winterfell is yours." Torrhen grinned as he watched the King's belly shake as he chuckled, accepting his friends pledge of loyalty. Suddenly his eyes were drawn to the two children emerging from the wheelhouse behind the line of servants. The first was a young girl with long golden hair followed by a younger boy.

"Those must be Myrcella and Tommen, Joffrey's younger siblings." Torrhen whispered to Robb as following them was none other than Queen Cersei. Along with everyone else, Torrhen couldn't deny that she was lovely with her long flowing hair, well-formed face and elegant dress. But Torrhen also saw something in her eyes; a coldness that detracted from her beauty and made it uncomfortable to look at her for too long. Luckily, Arya's inquisitive nature broke the ice by asking "Where's the Imp?" before Sansa told her to shut up. She of course was referring to Tyrion Lannister, the Queen's youngest brother. Born a dwarf, he was often times the subject of jokes and ridicule at Winterfell but Torrhen had heard of his formidable intellect and was looking forward to sharing books with him.

"Now, what have we here?" The King was standing in front of Robb, almost examining him."You must be Robb." After a nod and a handshake, he cast his eye on Torrhen whose hand he too enveloped in a strong, confident grip. "And you must be the other twin. Torrhen, is it?"

"Yes, your Grace. Welcome to Winterfell." Torrhen tried to keep his voice calm and even.

"I've heard you are quite the reader."

"I've read a few books. Do you read, your Grace?" At this, the King unleashed a deep belly laugh.

"Do I look smart enough to read to you?" As Torrhen struggled to find an appropriate answer, Robert spared him by raising his hand. "Don't answer that." He moved on while Torrhen got his breath back. A reassuring nod from his father relaxed him. Robert spoke to Sansa, complementing her looks, then to Arya, examining her face as if looking for something in particular, and then Bran who flexed what muscles he had, to which Robert declared he would be a soldier. Torrhen smiled at this, as he knew well his brothers desire to one day join the ranks of the Kingsguard. He would never be the biggest, but he would be the quickest. As the Queen came forward to receive Father's homage, he couldn't help but keep noticing her eyes. They looked full of disdain for her surroundings, as if Winterfell and its occupants were unworthy of her presence. Even as she politely smiled as she offered her hand to father, who kissed it in fealty, he could see her slightly grimace. He then saw one of the Kingsguards remove his helmet and knew immediately who he was: Jamie Lannister, the Queen's twin brother and known throughout the Seven Kingdoms as the Kingslayer, a title he earned seventeen years ago during the Sack of King's Landing when he ran his sword through the Mad King's back right in front of the Iron Throne. Arya commented on that, which earned her another rebuke from Sansa.

"Ned, take me to your crypt. I want to pay my respects." Torrhen knew exactly to whom he wanted to pay respects to, so did the Queen.

"We've been on the road for a month, my love. Surely the dead can wait." But the Queen's words would not convince him otherwise. He and father ventured into the crypts while Arya asked once again where Lord Tyrion was. Torrhen saw the Queen's eye twitch as she wheeled around and marched to her brother, telling him to find their little beast of a brother. Suddenly, an opportunity dawned on him and he turned the large man standing beside Bran.

"Hodor, fetch my horse. Quickly now!"

"Hodor." Hodor marched off quickly as Robb and his mother looked at him with a mixture of confusion and shock.

"What are you doing, son?"

"I've always wanted to meet Tyrion Lannister. Now seems a good time as any." As Ser Jamie returned to his horse Hodor brought out Swiftwind, Torrhen's trusted steed for almost three years. He took the reins from Hodor, thanking him, and walked over to Ser Jamie. "Ser Jamie, if you're going looking for your brother may I have the pleasure of accompanying you?" The Kingslayer looked at him for a moment and then mounted his horse. For a moment, Torrhen thought he was refusing.

"Try and keep up." Torrhen smiled and swung gracefully into Swiftwind's saddle. As he followed Ser Jamie out the main gate, nodding curtly to Prince Joffrey, he heard his mother call out to him.

"Be careful!"

"I will, Mother, and we'll be back before sundown! I promise." Kicking his flanks, he set Swiftwind at a steady pace as he and the Kingslayer raced down the road.

(-)

Arriving at the small brothel in the town on the outskirts of Winterfell, the two men dismounted and tied their horses up.

"I'll see where he is, Ser Jamie." Torrhen said as he made his way to the innkeeper, who was sitting outside with a pipe in his mouth enjoying the brisk weather, while Jamie made his way over to a group of ladies who were obviously prostitutes. Upon seeing Torrhen, he rose and bowed his head.

"Good day to you, Lord Torrhen."

"And to you, good sir. My companion and I are looking for a man who has been staying here. Golden hair, green eyes, shorter than most men. Do this sound familiar?"

Ah, the dwarf! He's still here, and paid well for the privilege. Second floor, last door on the right. He's got Ros in there with him, so you might want to knock first."

"I will keep that in mind. Thank you." He returned to Jamie who four ladies dressed rather scarcely.

"Friends of yours? I thought the Kingsguard took vows of celibacy."

"We do. These ladies are...just in case."

"Understood. Anyway, the innkeeper said he's on the second floor, last door on the right. He also said he has company."

"No surprise there." As the party made their way upstairs, Torrhen could feel the eyes of the ladies on him. He turned his head to look at them, batting their eyes and quietly giggling, and immediately turned away so they wouldn't see him blush. He knew about men and women and what they did to make babies, but he had never even seen a woman naked before. Then, before he knew it, they were standing outside the door.

"Ladies, wait here." Jamie said just before he opened the door and strode in with all the confidence of an older brother, followed by Torrhen. They found him underneath a particularly lovely woman, wearing nothing but a belt and a smile. Almost immediately Torrhen lowered his head in an attempt to avoid staring. But Jamie did no such thing. "Don't get up."

"Should I explain the meaning of closed door in a whorehouse, brother?"

"You have much to teach me, no doubt. But our sister craves your attention." He closed the door behind Torrhen and made his way to a nearby table with a pitcher of wine and two tankards, both of which he filled and one of which he handed to Torrhen.

"She has our cravings, our sister." Tyrion said with a fair dose of sarcasm while Ros cuddled and gave Torrhen a saucy wink. Torrhen quickly buried his face in the tankard, drinking deeply.

"A family trait." Then, as if just remembering, he motioned to Torrhen. "Torrhen Stark, Tyrion Lannister, my brother. Tyrion, this is Ned Stark's son, Torrhen." Torrhen bowed respectively while Jamie drained his tankard.

"At your service, my lord. Welcome to the North."

"You are most kind, Lord Torrhen. I've heard you're quite the scholar, a far cry from the typical Northener."

"Thank you, my lord. I've heard the same about you, among other things." Tyrion grinned, idly stroking Ros's arm.

"I'm sure you have." Torrhen smiled and their conversation would have continued had time not been against them.

"Forgive me for my interruption, but the Starks will be feasting us at sundown. You'll be expected there." Jamie said, with an almost pleading tone. But Tyrion would not be so easily

"I'm sorry, but I've started the feast a bit early." Tyrion grinned, pointing to Ros. "And this is the first of many courses." Torrhen's eyes went wide at this.

"Pardon me, my lord, but how many women do you intend to fuck?" The look on Tyrion's indicated that this statement was a sort of challenge.

"As many as I can before the Stranger comes to call." Before Torrhen could reply Jamie was forced to intervene once again, walking toward the door.

"I thought you would say that. But since we're short on time..." Opening the door, he called to the three ladies waiting outside. "Come on girls." Laughing merrily they bounded into the room shedding their scarce clothing, mounting the bed like wolves about feast on a flock of sheep. "Come along, Torrhen." He pulled him out by the arm, struck dumb by the sight before him. "See you at sundown."

"Close the door!" Tyrion called to them. Torrhen regained his senses and shut the door quickly, leaving his empty tankard on a nearby chair. As they made their way to their horses, Torrhen was still amazed by the behavior of Jamie's brother.

"So what do you think of my brother, Torrhen?" Struggling for a moment to find the right words as he mounted Swiftwind, he settled with saying the first thing that came to mind.

"He's...everything I imagined. And more."

"You seem to approve." At this Torrhen grinned.

"I do." With that the two men rode for Winterfell.


	5. Foreboding and Friendships

_Disclaimer_: I do NOT own Game of Thrones or its contents. All characters and notions of story belong to George R.R. Martin. This is only an alternate storytelling and in no way is it meant to infringe on copyright.

* * *

The feast was quite a spectacle. Food entered the Great Hall in an almost unending procession and wine flowed like the Trident at high tide. The music and the guests voices fought constantly to drown each other out. The royal party and the Starks sat together at one end of the hall, eating and drinking with the utmost courtesy, while the rest of Winterfell crowed below them stuffing their faces and drowning in wine. King Robert was among them, of course, with all his customary good humor and roguish charm. Torrhen, from his seat next to Robb whom he had reminded was right about their father being named the new Hand, watched as he groped one of the serving girls and gave her a rather serious kiss. Looking back to the Queen, he saw her barely concealed disgust at her husbands antics. Surprisingly, Torrhen found himself agreeing with her. He remembered a story of how he bedded every whore while hiding in a brothel in the town of Stoney Sept after the Battle of Ashford. Torrhen laughed when he heard the story, thinking that if it wasn't a blade that would kill him it would probably be something he caught from too much fucking. Starting to feel his legs cramping and his stomach hurting he rose and, with a courteous bow to the Queen and to his mother and a summoning whistle to Rhaegar, made his way through the hall to the door. Passing by his father, he felt his hand on his shoulder.

"You alright, son?"

"I'm fine. Just need some air, and..."

"And what?"

"Someone should see how Jon's doing." Ned grimaced but it wasn't out of disdain, rather out of despair over the abandonment of one of his children to the cold simply to avoid insulting the Royal family. After a moment, he squeezed Torrhen's shoulder affectionately and knelt to scratch behind Rhaegar's ears.

"Well, go on." With a nod he made his way out, letting the cold air wash over him. It felt..comforting. He heard the ring of steel as he entered the courtyard. 'Jon must be practicing.' His assumption proved correct as he saw Jon wailing away at the training dummy, going through the motions exactly as Ser Rodrik had trained all the boys. Deciding to watch, he moved into the shadows. Suddenly he heard hooves clattering in the courtyard as a man-at-arms ran up to take the reins of the horse that had just arrived from its rider, who was clad in solid black. A man of the Night's Watch who looked familiar.

"Is he dead yet?" The voice brought his memory back. It was Uncle Benjen! His father's younger brother who had taken the Black after the Rebellion. He watched him and Jon embrace and talk and couldn't help but smile. Uncle Benjen was one of the few people who didn't look down on Jon because he was a bastard, probably because the Night's Watch welcomed all into their ranks. Princes and paupers alike took the Black and served alongside each other on the Wall. But Jon couldn't be thinking about joining them...could he? As they parted company and Benjen made his way inside, a chill slowly crept through him.

He was going to lose his brother to the Watch. "Oh gods, why?" Torrhen whispered to himself and Rhaegar quietly whimpered, sensing his anxiety.

Suddenly, he saw Tyrion Lannister enter the courtyard carrying a wineskin and engage Jon in conversation. He saw Jon prickle as Tyrion blatantly reminded him of his relationship with his father and his father's wife. Growing up, he and Robb never really cared about Jon being only their half-brother; to them he was their brother and that was that. Which made their mothers dislike of him so hard to understand. He was about to walk out and defend his brother when suddenly Tyrion said something that startled him.

"Let me give you some advice, bastard. Never forget what you are. The rest of the world certainly won't. Wear it like armor, and it can never be used to hurt you again." For some reason, this made sense to him as he watched him turn and make his way to the feast.

"What the hell do you know about being a bastard?!" Jon shouted defensively to Tyrion's back. Without missing a beat, Tyrion turned and looked right into Jon's eyes.

"All dwarfs are bastards in their father's eyes." As he turned and walked away, Jon returned to his practicing. Torrhen chose now to emerge from the shadows.

"You hit any harder, you won't leave anything for the rest of us." He said as Jon continued his exercises.

"I have to do something to occupy myself while the rest of you enjoy yourselves."

"Do I look like I'm enjoying myself? I'm sitting in there, bored out of my mind, and you're out here freezing your ass off."

"It's what your mother wanted."

"And is taking the Black what she wants?" At this Jon swung so hard he snapped the head of the dummy clean off. "I'm sorry. That was uncalled for."

"Maybe it's what I want, dammit! Maybe I want to be something more that Ned Stark's bastard! The Night's Watch doesn't care where you're from or what you are..."

"Neither do I! You're my brother, Jon, and that's all that matters."

"I don't need your pity!"

"Does it sound like I'm pitying you?!" Torrhen roared while grabbing Jon by the shoulders. "I'm trying to remind you that there are people in this world who love you, and those people are right here. Bran, Arya, Robb and me all give a damn about you!"

"And what about Father? Does he give a damn?"

"You know he does, and he would show it more if Mother wasn't so...watchful." Despite their love, Torrhen knew that she had never forgiven his father for not only having a bastard son and acknowledging him but bringing him home and raising among her trueborn children.

"Exactly. Once he leaves for King's Landing, she'll throw me out in the cold regardless of what Robb wants."

"Then let's leave." Jon was confused at this.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean let's leave. Tonight. Take a couple horses and some provisions and just go while everyone is busy."

"Where would we go?"

"Who cares? We'll pick a direction and just go. We could travel to the Reach, or Dorne. We could even go to the Free Cities." He began using wild gestures to convey his growing excitement at this idea. "Pentos, Myr, Braavos! Think of all we could see and do! We could even take a ship and sail to Old Valyria. We could see the ruins, find Valyrian steel swords, and who knows? We could even find dragon eggs! In a years time, we could return to Winterfell as rich as kings. We could buy the North from the Iron Throne. They'll be singing songs of our deeds as long as men have voices to sing!" At this point the idea seemed so damned silly, both he and Jon were laughing at it. When they calmed down, neither one spoke until Torrhen worked up the courage. "So what do you think?"

"It's...ambitious. But I can't do it."

"Why not?!"

"I just can't, Torrhen." He walked off before Torrhen could say anymore. As he disappeared into the castle, Torrhen leaned against the railing and slid to the ground while Rhaegar tried to cheer him up by licking his fingers.

"Such love and devotion. If only my family was capable of that." Torrhen turned to see Tyrion Lannister leaning against a wall, wineskin still in hand..

"How long have you been there, my lord?"

"Long enough to see the love you have for him. Makes me rather envious."

"You don't have the same with your siblings?" Tyrion chuckled in response before taking another swig of wine.

"Let me put it this way. If I was on fire, and my sister had a cup of water, she would drink it and piss in the other direction. My father might do the same." The mental image made the two men laugh. "My brother would at least make the excuse that the heat made him thirsty." The laughter continued as Tyrion joined him on the ground.

"What would your mother say to that?"

"My mother died giving birth to me. An act which I had no control over and for which my father and sister have never forgiven me."

"My mother's mother died on the birthing bed as well, along with an uncle who died in infancy."

"What of your father's mother?"

"She died of grief after ravens came to Winterfell from King's Landing announcing my grandfather and uncle's execution. My father never saw her again after he left for the Eyrie." After that, they sat in silence for a moment. Nothing but the wind could be heard.

"May I offer some advice?" Torrhen nodded in acceptance. "If you love your brother, then you must respect his decision. If he feels that his place is with the Watch then you cannot stand in his way. But at least, you can remind him that he is not alone." Despite his continued reservations, Torrhen couldn't help but admit that he was right. If Jon thought he could do the most good on the Wall, then it was his duty as a brother to support his decision.

"I will. Thank you." Silence once again passed between them. "Should we return to the feast?"

"To my lecherous drunkard of a brother-in-law, the withering stares of my sister, and the desperate attempts of your mother to make small-talk? What do you think?" Tyrion asked with a deadpan expression as he held the wineskin in front of Torrhen. Torrhen answered by taking the skin and drinking deeply. "I thought so." The rest of the night passed rather quickly as the two men drank, talked of their favorite books of which they shared several, laughed, drank more, pissed and vomited together before passing out leaning on each other in the dog kennels, having established a firm friendship.

(-)

_As snow fell softly with a gentle wind whistling through the wolfswood, Torrhen crept between the trees as he stalked a large deer foraging through the snow. He forced himself to judge the weight of each step as the snow masked all foliage beneath and the crack of one tree branch would ruin the entire hunt. Once he found a spot he set himself into the correct posture, drew in his breath as he drew back his bowstring and offered a silent prayer to the Gods of the Forest that not only would his arrow hit but that it would be a clean kill. He also promised that the animal would be treated with the utmost respect as befitting a creature of the forest. Suddenly, the animal jumped and bolted and before Torrhen could recover from the shock it was gone. Biting back a string of curses, he whipped his head around trying to find who or whatever cause his prey to bolt. Suddenly, he saw a cloaked and hooded figure moving through the wood. Giving chase, he nimbly wove through the trees. He managed to gain on his quarry when the forest opened into what appeared to resemble the Godswood at Winterfell when the figure turned around and gave him a look that stopped him cold. Grey eyes stared back into his as the figure lifted the hood and revealed a face that Torrhen had never seen but somehow recognized instantly. A long face underneath a crown of blue winter roses and jet black hair._

"_Aunt Lyanna." His voice was only a whisper, but she must have heard because she smiled widely._

"_You look just like him, my dear nephew. Just like my sweet Ned." At this, tears flowed freely from Torrhen's face. He couldn't contain the rush of emotions looking upon a woman of such indescribable beauty who came from his own family. This was the woman whose beauty and passion had enthralled Prince Rhaegar Targaryen and set in motion the events that led to Robert's Rebellion. _

"_Am I dreaming?"_

"_Yes, my sweet Torrhen. I have been dead and gone for many years. But you are young and have your whole life ahead of you." She walked towards him and pressed her hand to his cheek. Surprisingly, her hand was quite warm. "My time is over, as is his. Right, beloved?" Suddenly, another cloaked figure emerged from behind the heart tree and joined Lyanna. Revealing the face beneath their hood, Torrhen felt all breath leave his body and all strength leaves his legs._

"_My prince." Standing alongside his Aunt was Rhaegar Targaryen, the last Prince of Dragonstone. His hero, his idol. The King who never was. The man whose love for Lyanna Stark had brought about the overthrow of the Taragryen dynasty. He bowed his head reverently until Rhaegar grabbed his shoulders and pulled him up into a standing position._

"_No need, my friend. There are no titles among the dead." Torrhen was at a complete loss at the sound of his voice, especially when the voice called him 'friend'._

"_I...I have so many questions."_

"_I wish we could answer them, but our time is short. You must return to the living world soon." Rhaegar said with sadness and resignation in his voice. _

"_No! I don't want to go!" Torrhen cried out, frantically. _

"_I know, but it is not yet your time. When you are old and gray, when all the battles are over and all the struggles have passed. When your children are grown and have children of their own. Then you will join us, following the Stranger's song."_

"_If so, then why am I here now?" _

"_Because we have to warn you. Winter is coming, for you and your family. Your friends will become enemies and your honor will be challenged. You will find love, lose it and regain it stronger than before. You will pass through both ice and fire before the end and you will not be the same man you were in the beginning." Rhaegar's cryptic warning left Torrhen confused, despite listening with rapt attention. _

"_What do you mean?" Rhaegar smirked while Lyanna stepped forward and took Torrhen's face in her hands._

"_You will have to find out for yourself, my dear." With a kiss on his forehead she turned and walked away from Torrhen, taking Rhaegar's hand in hers. _

"_Wait! I have one question. They say you were kidnapped by Rhaegar. Is that true?" With one look between them, Torrhen knew the answer before Rhaegar said it as they turned toward him._

"_No, Torrhen. I did not kidnap your aunt. In fact, she was the kidnapper" He brushed hair from her face. "She kidnapped my heart, and I have never wished for it back." Suddenly, Torrhen felt very drowsy and struggled to keep his feet. "It's time to go now. Farewell, Torrhen Stark of Winterfell. I hope we meet again. But not too soon." Torrhen, his strength leaving him completely, fell to the snowy ground and was claimed by darkness._

(-)

Torrhen was awoken by the wet slobber of one the wolfhounds. Pushing the dog aside, he forced himself up on shaky legs. Despite the drums pounding in his skull, he managed to keep his eyes open and observe the bustle of the courtyard.

"You alright?" Torrhen winced painfully at the nearby sound. He turned to see Tyrion Lannister leaning on a post, holding a cup of water. "You look quite hungover, it seems. First time?"

"Not so loud." Torrhen staggered to the gate, almost falling over as he pushed it open. He staggered toward a nearby barrel of water and, stripping off his shirt, plunged his head in. Seconds later, he emerged in a spray of water and a roar. Plunging his head in a second time to be sure, he emerged and grabbed a nearby rag. "Gods, I feel awful."

"So was I the first time I woke from a long night of drinking. You never forget your first hangover. It's quite a learning experience." He handed the cup to Torrhen, who gratefully grabbed it.

"It seems I had a good teacher." He took a sip, rinsed his mouth of whatever was left over from last night, and spat it out. Returning the cup to Tyrion he grabbed his shirt from the ground and made his way toward his room, looking forward to sleeping under some decent sheets.

"Going to bed so soon? I was hoping you would join me on a hunt."

"You hunt?"

"Not really. Your father and the King are going out and, perhaps I'm mad for saying this, I feel like joining them. I could use your company, as a fellow intellectual, to pass the time."

It took a moment to ponder, but in the end he decided getting some fresh air would do him a world of good.

"Well then, Lord Tyrion, I accept your most gracious offer. I will change and prepare myself." With a courteous bow, he made his way to his quarters after calling to Hodor to ready Swiftwind for a ride.

(-)

Emerging in the courtyard a few minutes later, with sword at his hip and quiver on his back, he saw his father and the King on horseback along with Tyrion, Sandor Clegane and several others. Swiftwind was saddled and ready, which reminded Torrhen to do something nice for Hodor. Grabbing his favorite bow, he mounted and joined the party.

"I'm surprised that you would be even trying to hunt, my lord." Sandor exclaimed, to which Tyrion only laughed.

"I'll have you know, my good dog, that you are looking at the finest hunter in Westeros. My spear has never missed!"

"It's not hunting if you have to pay for it." Torrhen laughed at this.

"Ah! I'm so glad you could join us, Torrhen. Now thought provoking conversation will commence!"

"I'm glad I can be of assistance. Clegane, would you allow Lord Tyrion and I a few moments alone? I promise I'll keep him out of trouble." With a nod, Sandor rode on ahead.

"Isn't he wonderful, my nephew's bodyguard?" The sarcasm in Tyrion's voice was quite palpable.

"He's not too bad. Once you get past the burns, of course."

"Of course. I heard that his bedding caught fire when he was a child. Poor boy." Torrhen noticed that there was something in his voice which suggested that wasn't the whole truth. But that was a question for another time.

"Where's your nephew, by the way? Doesn't he want to join us?" As he asked, the company began moving out.

"Joffrey hunting? That would be a sight to see. No, I believe he's sparring with your brother. Probably making an idiot of himself, one can only hope."

"A treasonous statement if ever I heard one. But fear not my lord, for I too share such sentiments." A short laugh broke out between them with silence following.

"Last night, I had a dream." Tyrion's eyebrows jumped at this.

"Oh really? Anything in particular?" Torrhen pulled back on Swiftwind's reins, slowing him down. Tyrion took the hint and slowed his horse down as well.

"As a matter of fact, yes. I saw my Aunt Lyanna and...Rhaegar Targaryen. I saw them in the godswood here. They were together, and they told me things. Things about my future and who I would have to become."

"Really?! How fascinating. And how did they look together?"

"They looked...happy. Very happy." His smile grew wider as he nudged Swiftwind's flanks, bringing him to a canter with Tyrion in close pursuit. They rejoined the party and spent the rest of they day talking and laughing. Torrhen did his part in the hunt and brought down a small deer, to Robert's delight and Ned's approval. On the way home, he and Tyrion continued talking and laughing with Torrhen promising to give Tyrion at least half the credit for his kill. And as the towers of Winterfell came into view Torrhen smiled, thinking that today had been a very good day.


End file.
